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Parenting Pronouns Or Else

Lie Like We do, Children

July 20, 2025 55 Comments

And in classroom surrealism news:

A primary school has held up a trans man as a positive example of masculinity in teaching materials for its pupils. Streatham Wells School, in south-west London, said Elliot Page, the Canadian actor who medically transitioned with cross-sex hormones along with gender surgery and now identifies as a man, showed that masculinity “can mean softness and strength.”

The school used the example of Page, along with the singer Harry Styles, to show children how men can be multi-dimensional.

In an article for the online newsletter Teachwire, Sarah Wordlaw, the head teacher… wrote: “It is important to teach pupils about harmful stereotypes about masculinity… It is extremely important to teach about positive masculinities.”

Because a mentally ill, self-harming woman, one seemingly forever on the verge of tears, is now a “positive example of masculinity.” A role model for primary-school children.

Consider this an open thread. Share ye links and bicker.

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Ephemera

Friday Ephemera (776)

July 18, 2025 120 Comments

Food preparation of note. || Possible downside detected. || Shall we dance? || Aerodynamic simulations. || “Diversity would be great… I just don’t think I could live anywhere where there’s, like, one group of people.” || Hyenas deterred. || Today’s word is organised. || I believe the term is hoe. || Bespectacled woman brings language lecture. || Marble. || Bathtime cunning. || Incoming. || Nommy-nommy-nom. || Trolling Antifa. || But she doesn’t look the type. || Pigtails and braless. || But he’s under the umbrella of womanhood. || He waited all week. || On the eye-widening folly of Net Zero. Previously. (h/t, Samizdata) || “Post-conflict fellatio,” butt decoration, and other chimp behaviour. || And finally, one for all those gentlemen out there in search of a “relaxed, fuller appearance.”

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Reheated

Reheated (110)

July 16, 2025 83 Comments

For newcomers, some items from the archives:

Black Women Climb Hill.

The defining triumph of our time.

We have, it seems, entered a world in which basic map reading and remembering to take a coat are deemed noteworthy achievements. Of course, it’s not just a matter of waterproofs and picking out suitable footwear. There are other complexities to be navigated: “Taking a selfie for social media… is an important way… to feel represented,” says Ms. Fatinikun.

Progressive Dining Protocol.

When the neurotic eat out.

So far as I can make out, the rules are as follows.

First, you should expect the restaurant’s serving staff to be conveniently categorised by their sexual inclinations or some other “ally” attribute, as if that weren’t presumptuous and intrusive – and, you know, weird. And should a pleasingly downtrodden identity be available – and said person dragged into your luminous presence – then you can bestow upon them your glorious and not-at-all-self-serving affirmation.

Naturally, you should make sure everyone sees. And hey, who wouldn’t want to be wheeled out as a prop, an accessory, for someone else’s attention-seeking project?

Radical Farce.

On Vanessa Engle’s three-part documentary series Lefties.

With a mix of archive footage and modern-day interviews, the leftism of the 70s and 80s is captured in all of its staggering glory. For those who haven’t seen the series, it is quite revealing – and often darkly funny. Among the gems to savour are the endless factional disputes over exactly how capitalism should be toppled, an earnest exposition on “penile imperialism,” and interviews with former self-styled radicals, now sitting by private swimming pools, fretting about fridge ownership, or planning to work on llama farms.

Other highlights include the tale of a bewilderingly inept attempt in 1987 to launch a radical left-wing tabloid, fuelled by the fever-dreams of Cambridge Marxists. The project was, unsurprisingly, a disaster, with its failure a direct result of ideological pretension. As illustrated by the scene in which, with the paper’s first edition about to go to press, most of the staff is out of the office on a deafness awareness day.

Deleted Scenes.

Laid-back driver meets wound-up cyclist. Strangeness ensues.

If you haven’t seen the exchange above, I do recommend watching it, if only as an instructional tale. Or a test of your own self-restraint. In the video, the cyclist, the aptly named Mr Peacock, goes out of his way to generate conflict, repeatedly, then descends into some paranoid fantasy, in which he is somehow both the hero and the victim. His fabulist construals of what is happening are quite remarkable. As I said at the time, someone should write a paper. Or beat him with a stick until the demon leaves.

For those craving more, this is a pretty good place to start.

Oh, and consider this an open thread. Share ye links and bicker.

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Anthropology Pronouns Or Else The Thrill Of Unemployment

And This Is The Kind Of Sex I Like To Have

July 15, 2025 52 Comments

Or, Please Don’t Bore Our Staff And Customers With Your Weird Compulsions.

In which Madam applauds herself for her own feats of self-preoccupation:

Woman refuses to be professional at work and it’s your fault for being uncomfortable, conservatives. You made her turn down this job. pic.twitter.com/qW4vBsfSkr

— Σ𝕏ulansic 🦎 (@TTExulansic) July 15, 2025

Madam apparently needs us to know that she is “part of the LGBT+ community,” as if we should not only care but be endlessly fascinated, and insists that she needs “to find a workplace that is LGBT+ community friendly.” Quite what this might mean, practically, is not altogether clear, though the implications that come to mind are somewhat limited in their appeal.

As there are only so many ways in which tales of one’s sex life can be shoehorned into workplace conversation, I’m assuming Madam expects those around her to continually acknowledge some boutique complications of her all-important “identity” – fabulist pronouns, an imaginary themness, or something similar. Something very much about her, rather the task at hand.

We’ve been here before, of course:

If a job application includes imaginary pronouns and claims of themness, I think one could treat it as roughly equivalent to the words I like to shit on the carpet. Signalling, as it does, insufferable pretension or serious mental illness, or some unhappy combination of the two.

And that’s before we get to potential employees who announce with triumph how their “gender changes depending on the day, or week, or even depending on the hour,” necessitating the wearing of, and frequent changing of, colour-coded bracelets. Because they’re so complicated and fascinating, you see. At least compared to you. And which would oblige anyone within range of the Level-Nine Narcissism Field to use the fabulist pronouns chosen or invented for that particular day, week, or hour:

And so, we arrive at a situation in which employers and employees would be obliged to closely monitor the mood swings of their unhinged workmates, regularly checking pronoun-bracelets and pronoun-earrings, and other pronoun-stipulating accessories, as if they couldn’t possibly have anything better to do. Lest they be faced with some hair-trigger umbrage and operatic drama, or get summoned to the HR department and then scolded for being insensitive and insufficiently inclusive.

And a happy, utopian workplace would surely follow.

Madam, featured above, also boasts on TikTok of lying to the people offering her a job – specifically, regarding whether she’ll be willing to work at weekends, the employer’s busiest time – as if they, and other potential employers, couldn’t possibly stumble across such boasts of deception and register the implications.

Oh, and if this cake needs icing, Madam’s chosen slogans – the ones she shares on social media, where potential employers might see – include, and I quote, “I DON’T WANT TO WORK.”

In block capitals, naturally. Lest there be doubt.

Update, via the comments:

Chow Bag adds,

She makes herself unemployable (“I DON’T WANT TO WORK”) and then blames “conservatives and moderates” for her being unemployed.

Do they ever grow up?

Ah, but… but… Madam insists, quite emphatically, that she needs to “talk about my personal life.” At length and in detail. On work time. Apparently, it’s fundamental to her “queer” identity. And yet, shockingly, employers – people trying to run a business – don’t regard that as a priority.

How very dare they.

Update 2:

In the comments, Darleen adds,

This lady may think it’s her identity du jour that makes others uncomfortable (see? EVERYTHING revolves around her) but it’s her hypervigilant narcissism that screams “workplace disruption is her superpower.”

The expectation that employers and colleagues – and presumably customers – should want to hear about her sex life and political views – the expectation of deference, of continual validation – doesn’t bode well. As if a job at Little Caesars should be a backdrop to endless, flattering discussions about her “queer” identity and her “queer” politics, like an unending therapy session, but with more applause. With the spotlight forever on Little Miss Complicated.

“I’m not going to be in a workplace and not talk about my personal life… to make you comfortable,” says she. “That’s not how it works.”

And yes, today’s word is irony.

Via Dicentra.

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Academia Free-For-All

Have You Tried Using Cheese?

July 14, 2025 60 Comments

And in brief British heatwave news:

Dr Ben Roberts, a senior lecturer in healthy buildings at Loughborough University, said applying yoghurt to the outside of windows can lower the temperature by up to 3.5C.

It was a month-long experiment. Behold your taxes at work.

In May, Dr Roberts and PhD student Niloo Todeh-Kharman conducted an experiment on two identical test houses at Loughborough University by putting yoghurt on the windows of one, but not the other. The experiment found the indoor temperature of the house with yoghurt on the windows was on average 0.6C cooler, but up to a maximum of 3.5C cooler when it was “hot and sunny.”

And before you ask,

[Dr Roberts] told the BBC the yoghurt smells for “30 seconds when drying” but that as soon as it has dried “the smell disappears.”

Oh, and should you be tempted:

For their experiment, the scientists at Loughborough University used a supermarket-brand of Greek yoghurt that has a fat percentage of about 10%.

Do let us know how it goes.

Should clarity be required, this is not some miraculous property of yoghurt, even of Greek yoghurt at 10% fat. It’s merely a function of any substance that can be smeared onto windows before drying white. Presumably, similar effects could be achieved by gluing toilet paper onto your windows, which would also alert neighbours to your cunning. Or by purchasing any of the commercially available window films that do much the same thing, only better.

Consider this an open thread. Share ye, and so forth.

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In which we marvel at the mental contortions of our self-imagined betters.